


Better Late Than Never

by Leonawriter



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Family, Gen, MJN Air Is A Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, for all Douglas knew, the similarities were all purely superficial, and didn't mean anything at all, certainly not that he'd end up becoming a father to a child who had already done his growing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late Than Never

He couldn't say he recognised the name when it first came up - and why should he? Crieff was hardly what he'd known her as, when they'd met.

There were plenty of redheads, too. And this was Fitton, not wherever it was they'd been in London, all those years ago when he'd caught himself up in a whirlwind romance during medical school.

No, the name Martin Crieff hadn't rung any bells. Or satcoms either, for that matter. Nor had looking at him. It would take much more than  _that_.

If he was brutally honest with himself, there should have been something to ring alarm bells within the first few weeks. Certain things such as mannerisms and habits were a little harder to hide than, say, a name. But - in what weren't his brightest moments - he would have to admit (if only to himself) that he'd been feeling slighted over a boy young enough to be his son getting the Captain's seat before he did in this damn company, and may, just may have been taking it out on him. The fact that Martin was such a stickler to the rules hadn't helped.

Boston was the first time that niggling voice of 'something-isn't-right-here' had raised its ugly head. Martin, vulnerable for the first time without being a prick about it, reminded him too much of himself at that age - all right, a fair bit younger than that, but then, Martin was a fair bit less experienced and matured than he had been.

He'd pushed the thought away, though. It didn't mean anything, after all - just a quiet moment, and it was perfectly reasonable to be reminded of oneself in a younger pilot. Not strange at all.

The problem was, once it started, it didn't seem to  _stop_. 

Oh, it wasn't as though hints and clues and the such began to jump out at him the moment he had the slightest suspicion. Oh, no. If anything, half the time he had the thought in mind he'd dart morbidly curious glances at his captain, and the rest he'd simply be somewhat more irritable than usual due to the inability to know for sure, because if there was one thing Douglas didn't like it was not being on top of things, and not having the answers, and generally  _not knowing_. Especially in this case.

Martin didn't suspect a thing, naturally. Merely thought that Douglas was being his usual temperamental self. In fact, it was more a matter of 'god forbid Martin ever thought anything was different, ever'.

After all, what was the point in getting worked up over something this old? If there was one thing Douglas knew about the entire situation, it was the fact that it had happened when he was - they were - young, and not, if he was honest with himself, all that smart. They'd fought over, oh... something or other. He couldn't remember what. She'd slammed the door in his face - literally - and given him the distinct impression that she never wanted to see him again. Flight school had followed a scant few months later, partly from the idea that pilots looked like they knew what they were doing - and enjoyed it - more than those in the esteemed medical profession, partly because ever since that day he'd had the insatiable desire to run, and you couldn't get further from home than several thousand feet in the sky.

So the idea that it was  _Martin_ that was the result of all that - laughable, really.

Of course, it did nothing to stop the near-constant worry whenever Martin did something extraordinarily stupid, which just so happened to be quite frequently. Every new piece of information on Martin's home life didn't help. It wasn't as though he had any control over it. It wasn't as though any of it was his _fault_ , even. Nor could he do anything - especially without raising suspicion.

And then... then, of course, there was Ipswich. 

It wasn't as though he hadn't wondered, when Martin had said something about his inner ear problem. He'd just been distracted by other things, such as getting out of having to swim in a cold pool in his uniform, which he fully succeeded in avoiding. The fact had tickled an old memory, that was all.

A memory that had come back in full force in the smoke filled fuselage. He'd later kick himself for not having had it come back to him sooner - Martin's woozy voice had been the trigger, and by that point, it was too late. He'd find himself grateful that (aside from the part where Arthur took his smoke hood off) no one could really see what was going on, so they couldn't see the unflappable sky god of MJN freeze up, his breath caught in his throat for a few invaluable seconds.

_Somewhere in the distant past of Cumbria, a little boy had been chasing after his uncle. He wasn't a doctor, like mum and dad were, always busy with other people and never with enough time to have a bit of fun sometimes. Uncle Roger wasn't like that, though - not a bit._

_"Aeroplane!"_

_He'd been in the RAF, once. He'd never told little Douglas the details - only just enough to make it sound exciting. All that flying about and going places and saving the day._

_Uncle Roger had laughed, and picked him up and lifted him around, but after one one, two at the most, he'd stopped, even in the face of all his nephew's pleading for more._

_"Sorry, Dougie! But if I kept going round like that, I'd get dizzy. And then I'd fall over, and you'd have to be the one looking after me for a while!"_

The memory of some near fifty years ago merged with the present day. For one dizzying moment, Uncle Roger and fuzzy image of Martin on the floor merged together. It was a good thing that he hardly had to  _tell_ Carolyn to look after her own son, because his priority, first and foremost, was Martin. His captain - his  _son_ \- picked up bridal-style, one arm under his legs and the other cradling the boy's head against his chest.

 _I've got you,_ he wanted to say.  _You're safe now_. 

The words didn't come out. They wouldn't. Even when Martin couldn't hear them. 

He couldn't help watching, for those agonising minutes, Martin's unconscious body - put in the recovery position, just in case anything went wrong, so they could check his breathing. It reminded him of when Lottie had caught the flu when she was six. Or when Verity had ended up in hospital from an unexpected peanut allergy.

He looked away the moment Martin looked like he was waking up. 

Wouldn't do for his captain to think he cared  _that_ much, after all. Not at all. And besides - he wasn't sure that he would have been able to hide the sheer amount of relief in his eyes.

And if he sat up long after Helena had gone to bed when he got home that night, watching tv programs that he wasn't even paying the slightest amount of attention to, nursing a glass of lemonade in his hands, then who could possibly know?

Helena certainly wouldn't pay attention to the placements of her husband's old family albums, that was one thing he was sure of. They'd always stayed exactly where they'd first been put - the old ones, at any rate. The ones with his side of the family.

They were back in place the next morning. Not a thing out of place to show that he'd been mulling over decades-old photos and mentally comparing notes, an increasingly not-so-alarming number of them matching up.

...

"Douglas, come here. Now. This instant, if you please."

Carolyn's voice held no room for disobeying the alpha dog and, since Martin was currently studiously and charitably filing out flight logs on a two-for-one offer and Arthur was in the plane clearing up after yet another aftermath of the birthday trip of a child and their friends who clearly didn't know how to appreciate what they had, rather than insulting it at every given opportunity - well, it was just their luck that they were out of hearing range, now wasn't it?

"Douglas," she said, the moment she had him where she wanted him, "what _exactly_ is going _on_? And don't try telling me that it's nothing. I know nothing. And I know when something might as well be nothing, even if you're making a big fuss over it. So go on. Out with it."

And with that, she crossed her arms.

Douglas, however, still hadn't got the message, and merely raised an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know what you're trying to get at. Everything's perfectly fine, as long as Martin's cold isn't contagious."

"God forbid. Because then I'd have two useless pilots hacking away, rather than just the one. And speak of the devil. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Noticed what?"

She resisted the urge to massage her forehead against a headache. There was clearly _something_ going on here. Especially with the way that Douglas had reacted just now.

"Something," she said pointedly, "between you and Martin. You keep giving him strange looks and you're being nicer to him than usual sometimes. Not that I mind - I don't. I really don't care what's going on. As long as it doesn't affect my pilots' ability to fly."

Douglas had gone interestingly still, she noted.

"Nothing is _going on_ , Carolyn. Everything is absolutely  _fine_."

"As it should be. But the fact remains, Martin has had new aviator shades since Christmas, and I'm fairly sure that I didn't get them, Arthur was vocal about having not thought about it, and Martin is only a little better at lying than he is."

"It was Christmas," Douglas snapped out, and that was when Carolyn knew that she'd hit a sore spot. Douglas only sounded like that when you'd started getting too close to home. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem - both of her pilots were usually private people, and their problems could be their own as long as they liked. But she'd seen what happened when Douglas kept things too close to his chest like this. She'd known him long enough.

She let her eyes narrow.

"As I said before. As long as I have two fully functioning pilots who can focus on flying, I don't care. But if it's something that's going to get in the way of that, I've got to know."

"Carolyn, just _in case_ you happen to be insinuating anything-"

"Which I'm not."

"-I'll tell you this. In case you'd somehow forgotten. It's rather easy to do, what with Sir being in command, but one has to remember that Sir is also  _young enough to be my son_."

Carolyn had forgotten that they were speaking in relatively quiet tones until Douglas said the last part in more of a hushed hiss than a whisper, a glance - only half noticed - over at the portacabin. 

The sight of Arthur coming towards them was an unexpectedly welcome sight, compared to the sort of reaction his appearance usually had on those he graced his presence with.

"Hi, mum. Hi, Douglas. Gertie's all hoovered and cleaned. She still smells a bit of chocolate icing, though. I think it's because the chocolate cake was stored near the air conditioning. Is Skip here?"

"He's inside. Oh, and Arthur? Go make tea. I think after that flight, Lord knows we all need it."

"Righto!"

Carolyn listened to herself count down from ten in her head until Arthur was gone again and she could hear the sounds of mugs being moved and the kettle being turned on before properly turning back to Douglas.

"I don't know if I should feel relieved or irritated that this is all just a result of unnecessary paternal feelings for the boy. Despite the way he acts, he  _is_ an adult. He can take care of himself, you know."

"Hmm. That's what Susan said about Verity. And then the next thing we knew she'd gone and got herself a job in America, of all places. Before she was twenty. I can at least safely assume when it comes to Martin that he's not going to give us any shocks like  _that_."

"What, Martin? Be spontaneous? And Douglas, it's one thing to point out how young the boy is, but quite another to add his name on after your own children as if he belongs in the list!"

"Oh, but  _isn't it just_."

Carolyn stared. Douglas just looked back at her as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

He raised his eyebrows at her. Little did he know, it was that small gesture that did it, and that helped her finally gave in to the seed of the idea he'd been planting. She'd seen Martin do the exact same thing earlier - before take-off, actually, and completely unconsciously done, too.

And come to think of it-

She groaned, covering her face with one hand so that her next words came out muffled.

"Douglas. Above  _all else_ , please do  _not_ tell me that I've unwittingly subscribed to a buy one get one free deal on Richardsons!"

She barely dared take her hand away to keep an eye on his reaction, whether she'd hit the mark or gone so far off he was about to start - god forbid - laughing at her. Well, that and make sure Arthur wasn't being unnaturally fast and helpful at the same time, or that Martin wasn't coming their way. Lord knew, neither of those would bode well for the current conversation piece.

"Douglas, I am  _waiting_."

"Ah, and therein lies both your problem. Would sir like the good news, or the bad news first?"

 _"Douglas_. You are being almost unbelievably irritating at the moment, and Arthur is in the middle of trying to be helpful, and may come back at any time. Does that answer you?"

"Well, when you say it like  _that_... I think you'll be pleased to find that Martin is very _legally_ a Crieff."

"Good lord. I can hear everything you're not saying, and I'm frankly glad for the sake of both of us you aren't. Does he know? And for that matter, how do _you_ know?"

"No. That's the way I'd like to keep it, and you'd be surprised how easy it was to figure out once I had the information in my hands - you know, his birthday, a bit of pushing in the right direction, the  _ear thing_..."

"Oh no. Don't tell me."

"Unfortunately so. It's not common, but it's also not a complete unknown at popping up in the genetics every so often, skipping a generation... there are other things, but-"

"Yes, yes, I think I get the picture. Oh, and Douglas?"

"Yes?"

She'd started to pull herself together to head back to the portacabin, though after this she knew damn well she'd just be scooping up her things and heading home as fast as possible for a stiff drink. She often found the need after a particularly difficult flight, or a special occasion - this constituted as, technically, both and neither and everything all in one go. 

"You're a berk. A colossal berk." She lowered her voice again, her normal speaking tone having been regained only for the pleasure of the - to any eavesdroppers - vague insult. "You're going to have to tell him sooner or later, you know. Or he'll find out on his own. Or Arthur will, and that's as good as."

She left him standing there. Pointedly did not look back at him to see his reaction. Although she did have to admit that the look on his face when he had to come back in to fetch his things was priceless - just like he'd been forced to chew on a lemon.

Especially when Martin noticed, and ended up asking his First Officer what was wrong. Oh,  _especially_ then.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was originally (before Zurich aired, before even Wokingham aired) going to be part of a different story entirely, all leading up to the beginning of this other fic. But then that got stressful, and I decided to basically restart the entire thing but leaving out the problematic parts.
> 
> On the matters of medical things - such as the inner ear problem - I will freely admit that there's a mix of research (none of which yielded much help) and artistic license, as I was sure I'd seen something that pointed to this being possible, I just wasn't sure if this was what it meant. I figured that as long as it's vaguely believable, I could do whatever I liked with my own fic. (That's not to say I don't want to know if it's an accidental bullseye or completely off the mark. I do. But if it is off the mark, let's say I can re-write medical science or create something just for one story.)
> 
> I have had this in my head for a number of years now, and given it's now officially classed as 'AU' in my head, it'll definitely have more coming up. Martin still needs to find out, for one thing, I can't just not right that, now can I...


End file.
